


take these sunken eyes and learn to see

by feloosha (gwencelot)



Series: blackbird [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Marking, Schmoop, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22168483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwencelot/pseuds/feloosha
Summary: He can’t remember what his skin felt like before James touched him.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/James Ironwood
Series: blackbird [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598392
Comments: 17
Kudos: 132





	take these sunken eyes and learn to see

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place a few weeks after its predecessor, [take these broken wings and learn to fly](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21907165).
> 
> [See what's in the works at my tumblr!](https://feloosha.tumblr.com/wip)

Qrow has been in the shower so long he has to wipe away the condensation on the mirror before he can see himself staring back, hair matted down, stark against long, pale limbs.

He can’t remember what his skin felt like before James touched him. 

Surely it was _there,_ stretched across delicate bones and toned muscle, scratched and scarred but there all the same. But when Qrow looks in a mirror, he can’t imagine not seeing a mark (or several) sucked into his neck; the ghost of a handprint where his hip has been gripped, firm; red lines running up and down his inner thighs. All the places James claims, leaves his mark, as if Qrow could forget.

He turns away, unsurprised to see James leaning in the doorway, already half-dressed and watching him. Qrow’s breath catches when James’ eyes crinkle at the corners, a secret not-quite-smile that he’s come to save just for when they’re alone. Qrow’s own eyes turn downward out of habit, and when he looks back up James is holding out a towel.

“Thanks.” Qrow starts with his hair, mussing it up even more as he dries it, waiting for James to say whatever it is he came in to say. But he’s silent, still for a moment before he reaches out, metal fingers ghosting across Qrow’s skin, and surely he was _expecting_ the shiver that wracks Qrow’s body, but he smiles anyway.

“Do these hurt?” James asks. Qrow can’t see, but he feels fingers brushing across his lower back, and knows exactly what he’s talking about. Imagines bruises and bites on his skin, well-loved.

“No,” he answers quietly, closing his eyes when James’s touch becomes firmer and his mouth comes to rest on Qrow’s shoulder, helpfully reminding him how they got there in the first place.

_He remembers James mapping out every inch of his skin with his mouth, leaving bites and bruises in his wake, sending wave after wave of pleasure shooting up Qrow’s spine. Not stopping even when Qrow cried out and spilled over himself, only starting over, making him come undone over and over until Qrow was left trembling and and thinking he couldn’t possibly take any more._

James’ hands trail lightly up to wrap around his hips and turn Qrow around in his arms, settling chest to chest, nothing between them but the thin fabric of James’ undershirt. Qrow wonders at how familiar this already feels, like he’s always meant to be pliant and worshipped under James’ hands.

_And then, only then, working Qrow open with careful fingers, slow, too_ slow, _lips on the inside of the leg thrown over his shoulder. Pressing into Qrow with a sigh, a groan, a murmured, “Okay?”_

_And Qrow had turned his head away only to have it cupped in a large hand and turned back, forced to face James with tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from the sheer intimacy of it all; James’ hands warm against his skin, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling with his own._

_“Yeah,” he had croaked, because_ of course _it was okay, it was the most_ okay _Qrow had been in a long time. And then James was rocking into him, steady and perfect, and the only thing Qrow knew was a feeling he was too scared to think about, because it felt a lot like love._

When James leans down to kiss him, it’s a lot like their first; just this side of too chaste, but the _want_ and intention behind it perfectly clear. Unlike the first time, however, Qrow is the one to deepen it, pushing himself up on his toes for a better angle, letting James know on no uncertain terms that this is what he wants. And god, does he _want._

James pulls away first and Qrow shakes the memories of their first time off like a chill, determined to be in the present. He turns back to the mirror, intent on getting ready for the day, but is surprised by James coming up behind him again, looping strong arms around his waist like he just can’t let Qrow go yet. Qrow fights a smile, but it wins out in the end.

“I have a meeting,” James murmurs into his skin, dragging his lips up until he can place a quick kiss on the back of Qrow’s neck. “Can we meet back here for lunch?”

“Um,” Qrow says eloquently, distracted by one of James’ hands rubbing across his stomach and venturing even further down. “Right here, in the bathroom?” James huffs a laugh of surprise and steps back. Qrow misses his warmth.

“Sure, whatever gets you off,” James says cheekily. Qrow laughs out loud; James is _never_ this snarky. James gives him one last smirk in the mirror and then he’s gone, leaving Qrow alone in his quarters, where they had finally settled after it was clear Qrow was no longer sleeping in his own again. Qrow waits until he hears the front door slide open and shut, and starts his morning routine. 

* * *

It’s no domestic bliss, what they have, but it’s more than Qrow ever thought could be his.

He hasn’t lived with anyone consistently since Tai, way back when, when Summer had just disappeared and he needed someone to help with the girls. Really, he just _needed someone._ But being with James means more than just sharing a house key and packing lunches and being a functioning adult when Tai just _couldn’t._

Being with James is waking up feeling warm and safe, no uncertainties about what he’ll see when he opens his eyes; kisses given with no expectations, sometimes for no reason, leaving Qrow breathless; hopes and fears whispered into each other’s skin, the comfort of having someone there to hear them.

But the bad days are _bad,_ rendering Qrow empty and numb, thinking about what he could have done better and how this is all too much, too good for a sad old bad luck charm. And James should get tired of it, tired of _him,_ but he’s too perfect, mouth a thin line as he watches Qrow go and leaves the window open for when he’s ready to come back.

And Qrow isn’t the only one. It’s far too often that James wakes up in a cold sweat, tears stinging the corners of his eyes, the panicked memory of Beacon a gasp on his lips; and all Qrow can do is wrap his arms around him, reassuring, _there._ They make quite the pair, the tin man and the scarecrow, and Qrow just wonders when something is going to give.

But a small part of him, growing larger every day, whispers, _maybe it doesn’t have to._

* * *

By the time Qrow gets back to James’ apartment—no, _their_ apartment, James insists every time—he’s sweaty and dirty from training, already feeling like he needs another shower. He takes his time leaning Harbinger against the wall beside the door, trailing his fingers up to the shelf that holds the dual pistols of Due Process neatly in place when they’re home.

God, _home._ Two months ago, even thinking that word would have been enough to make sadness settle in his chest, make him drink to the bottom of a bottle until he couldn’t see or think straight anymore. Of all the places, Qrow truly never thought he would settle down in Atlas—settle down _anywhere._

_Home isn’t a place,_ Ruby had said once. Qrow thinks he understands now what she meant.

A quiet shuffling sound from the bedroom has the hairs on Qrow’s arms standing up, but before he can even grab Harbinger, he hears the accompanying groan and immediately recognizes it as James. He lets himself relax, shaking his head to clear it before going to investigate.

When James hears Qrow’s footsteps in the threshold of their room he lifts a hand from where he’s sprawled across the bed, beckoning him over tiredly. His jacket is draped haphazardly over the chair in the corner, shoes kicked off at the foot of the bed. Qrow perches on the edge of the bed warily. 

“Jim? You okay?” He reaches out a hand tentatively and rests the back of it against James’ forehead. It doesn’t _feel_ like he has a temperature.

“I’m not sick, Qrow, just tired.” James chuckles, reaching up to take the hand and use it to drag Qrow closer. He’s so _strong;_ Qrow goes willingly, but lets himself enjoy the feel of being manhandled, just a little. “It was a long meeting.” With a little shuffling they’re finally laying facing each other side by side, Qrow’s hands pillowed under his head and James trailing fingers along his cheek. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Qrow whispers back, leaning forward slightly to nudge their noses together. “Was it the council?”

“Yes.” James sounds irritated, but like he’s trying to hide it. “You know we’re still dealing with the fallout of Jacques’ actions. They want a complete overhaul of Atlas’ security systems. I agree, but who’s paying for it? Who can dedicate the time?” He sighs, breath making Qrow’s bangs flutter on his forehead. James finally smiles at that, reaching up to brush them out of Qrow’s eyes. Qrow releases one of his hands to catch James’ wrist, rubbing circles in comfortingly. It’s the metal one so there’s less give, but James makes a little appreciative noise and Qrow figures it feels nice anyway.

His prosthetics are a lot more sensitive than Qrow ever could have guessed. He’s come to learn them quite intimately in the past few weeks: the calibration of each fingertip, able to feel even the slightest twitch in Qrow’s palm; the imitation joints, able to tire out just like his flesh ones; the stimulation to the sensors on his thigh making him quiver.

(Qrow had asked him once, years ago, drunk and stupid and wanting a fight, if James could feel _anything_ or if the prosthetics extended to his heart, too, and James had gone silent, stoic, and Qrow would never stop trying to make up for the hurt look on his face.)

“Do you have time for lunch?” Qrow asks after they’ve watched each other for a while, quiet but for the rustle of Qrow’s movements over James’ sleeve. He hums and shudders when Qrow’s hand moves up to cup his shoulder, squeezing. Interesting.

“For you? I have time for anything.” James grins at how his words make the tips of Qrow’s ears grow pink, leans forward to kiss his embarrassment away. When he pulls back, he’s still smiling. “Really, I’ve cleared my schedule.”

Qrow makes a noise of surprise, making to sit up despite James’ protests. When James finally lets him go, it’s only for Qrow to turn around and start picking at his clothes. “Get this off.”

“What?” James does what he’s told despite his confusion, amusement clear in his voice, starting the slow process of undoing the rest of his uniform. First the belts strapped across his chest; the vest, folded more carefully than his jacket and set aside; his tie and button down, finally leaving him only in his undershirt. He shrugs up at Qrow, a small smile on his face. “Anything else?” He asks, teasing.

Qrow plants his hands on James’ shoulders, one warm and one cold, leaning forward with all his weight to try and push James back down onto the bed. He doesn’t budge, of _course_ he doesn’t, instead bringing his hands up to wrap around Qrow’s forearms, darting up for a kiss. Qrow makes a noise of frustration, batting at him lightly.

“Lay on your stomach.” Qrow tries not to think too hard about how James does it without question, putting his complete trust in whatever is happening. Putting his trust in Qrow. When James is settled face down with his arms crossed in front of him, chin resting on top, Qrow allows himself a moment to appreciate, letting his eyes roam down James’ body, once again unable to believe that he just… gets to have this.

“Qrow?” James sounds unsure suddenly. Qrow thinks he knows why. Quickly throwing a leg over James to straddle his thighs, Qrow balances himself with a hand on either broad shoulder beneath him, leaning down to press a kiss at the first hint of metal he can reach. He feels James shudder beneath him, a small sigh escape his lips. The muscles under his hands instantly relax.

Qrow straightens back up, satisfied. He takes a second to consider how he wants to do this; obviously James can _feel_ on the right side, but there’s no give, no real pressure points. Will the sensors know how to interpret a massage? He shrugs, finally trailing his hands down to rest in the center of James’ back. If it feels wrong, James will tell him.

The first dig of the heels of Qrow’s hands into James’ back elicits a low groan, and he smiles to himself. _Perfect._ It’s been a while since he’s given anyone a massage, but Qrow remembers the basic principles, knows how he would want to feel if he were getting one. He just wants to make James feel _good._

It’s odd, trying to mirror his movements on both sides of James’ body. The flesh side moves easily, melting under his clever hands, muscles shifting and knots undoing themselves; he gets no feedback from the metal on the right, but it warms under his hands, and James certainly isn’t complaining. When Qrow feels a particularly hard knot, he digs his elbow in, relishing in the gasp and moan James lets out. 

He works his hands lower and lower, hesitating before skimming his fingertips under the waistband of James’ pants where his undershirt is still tucked in. James tenses beneath him for a split second before he’s flipping them over in one smooth motion, pinning Qrow on his back to the bed, eyes burning into his own. As Qrow opens his mouth to speak, he feels the brush of James, half hard against his leg, and sucks in a breath instead.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he says finally, lashes fluttering as James’ mouth connects with his collarbone. “But, ah, this was supposed to be about you.” The graze of teeth against his skin has him arching up, his own arousal becoming more apparent by the minute. He feels the curve of James’ mouth, a hand dragged down his side. 

“Why don’t we make it about us?” And isn’t that just so very _James,_ heart too big for his own good, putting his wants and needs aside to include Qrow, who still can’t help but feel he doesn’t deserve it. Still can’t believe this is real.

James doesn’t wait for Qrow to answer, instead hauling him up easily and taking his hand to lead him to their bathroom where the day started. When he looks back, there’s something predatory in his eyes, but also gentle, almost _fond,_ that takes Qrow’s breath away.

“I already showered today,” Qrow says when James releases him to turn the water on, testing the heat with his left hand. James smirks back at him, finally stripping out of his undershirt, belt and pants soon following.

“I know.” Qrow stares when his boxers come down next, and he finally sees James, all of him, metal and flesh and scars and beautiful. Feels his heart start to race when James steps forward, helpfully unbuttoning his shirt until he can slide it off Qrow’s shoulders. Taking the hint, Qrow steps out of the rest of his clothes himself, letting them pool on the floor next to James’ and places his jewelry carefully next to the sink beside their toothbrushes and combs.

Something about seeing his and James’ things mixed together so easily makes something constrict in his chest and his mouth run dry, a fuzzy feeling making its way up his body from the tips of his toes. When he catches James’ eye in the mirror, he doesn’t look away.

“Come here,” James says softly, and Qrow goes.

* * *

It’s not perfect, what they have, but there’s something beautiful in their faults, something Qrow doesn’t ever want to let go.


End file.
